


replacement (am I still myself?)

by revoleotion



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Chronic Illness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, autistic Licht Jekylland Todoroki, vent text
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revoleotion/pseuds/revoleotion
Summary: about growing up and feeling like you're losing parts of what should be you.
Relationships: Arisuin Misono/Snow Lily | All of Love, Hyde | Lawless/Licht Jekylland Todoroki
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. 11pm

**Author's Note:**

> [gestures to my autism and chronic illness, then to Licht and Misono] y’know??
> 
> I cannot think of any specific warnings but this is sad? Yeah, I think that describes it very well. I'm sorry.

All things considered, Misono thought as he glanced at the digital clock at the bottom of his laptop screen, he should’ve put this point onto his list as well, simply because it gave him the illusion of cosplaying a normal person. At least that’s how Licht had phrased it, in a monotone voice that made Misono believe that he meant this, 100%. When Misono had told Licht about the list, the fellow Eve had seemed interested in it, too interested for it to be only polite. Licht wasn’t very polite anyway. 

Their struggles weren’t the same but they felt similar enough to bond over it. They had both grown up sheltered, but while Misono had been hidden away like fragile treasure, Licht had been pushed onto the stage. Despite their differences, what they had in common was that normal seemed so far out of reach. At least most of the time. 

Misono squinted down on the clock again. It was 11pm. A little bit past it, the digital clock offered him 11:07pm. Misono felt… normal. 

There he was, studying in front of his laptop at a time he usually was asleep. To be fair, he had taken a nap in the afternoon, so that might play a part. Still. He was going to count it. Misono bathed in the illusion like it was one of the hot showers Lily loved so much, the ones that filled the bathroom with thick fog and warmed up all the towels. 

“Misono?” Lily’s voice came from their bed. 

Their. Bed. 

Misono smiled at the thought. 

“I’m coming,” he said. But he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the clock. 11:09pm. 

“It’s late,” he said, testing it out on his tongue. “And I’m still awake.”

Lily was silent for a while, then he chuckled. Misono wasn’t prepared for the rush of affection that came with the sound. He never was. 

“A true student, I am so proud,” Lily said. 

“Right?” Misono asked. “I can’t believe it.”

Part of him had never thought this was ever going to happen. Sure, there were going to be days of him being tired, and he was going to pass out on the couch next to Lily even though he had been determined to make it through the movie. But right now it was 11pm. 

Misono didn’t want to be normal. He liked being himself, he liked who he was and he wouldn’t want to change that. 

But this was nice. Knowing how far he’d come. Knowing that once he’d go to bed, he’d find himself next to Lily, maybe he could even cuddle with him and stop him before he spent another ungodly amount of money on commissions of his favorite movie characters. 

And yet. 

How was it that something could feel both nice and terrible at the same time? 

“Do you think I’m less me now that I can stay up longer?” Misono asked after he had made himself comfortable next to Lily. It was a stupid question but it sucessfully distracted Lily enough for Misono to take his phone away before he could order anything. 

“What do you mean?” Lily asked in a tone that revealed that he already knew what Misono was talking about. Lily did this sometimes. He wanted him to explain a feeling because explaining already helped understanding it. And it worked, most of the time, but right now it was the last thing Misono wanted. 

“You know what I mean,” he said, not rudely because this was Lily and Misono never wanted to hurt him in any way, “That was my thing. Going to bed at nine. And now it’s almost midnight. What if I’m-”

“Faking it?” Lily finished because all of sudden it felt impossible to finish the sentence. 

Misono nodded. 

Even though he never intended to hurt Lily, his Servamp’s face suddenly bore pain so, so familiar. Maybe it wasn’t what Misono had said but the way he was, the way he felt. He knew that Lily would do everything, anything, to guarantee that Misono was happy at all times. It was an impossible endeavor, and it seemed to hurt Lily more than anything else. Misono could understand this. He never had felt a pain that came even close to the way he felt when Lily was suffering and he couldn’t do anything about it. Nothing his body could throw at him was nearly as bad. 

“No,” Lily said after a few minutes. He blinked. The pain was gone, or it had just grown into the smile Lily showed the world because smiling was easier than crying. “I don’t think you’re less you.”

What an easy thing to say, Misono thought. 

But was it? Lily would never lie to him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lily offered, gently. 

“No, I think I’m good. Tired.”

His Servamp chuckled again. “It’s late, after all.”

“It’s late,” Misono agreed. “I will give you your phone back but only if you don’t order anything.”

“You’re mean,” Lily complained. “You’re so mean, Misono. I love you but you’re mean.”

Misono never was prepared for this either. It may be the one thing that was never going to change. Lily had once said that Misono was proof that love existed. 

“I love you too,” Misono said but he didn’t give the phone back, just to be safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the list I mention right at the beginning is something I established at some point? I had Misono write a list with all the things normal people do that he can't do because of his condition (and because he feels like he's trapped inside his home).


	2. nail polish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [slaps Licht] this angel can fit so many vent texts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: mention of (autistic) burnout and masking, a lot of hurt but comfort too

It had started with black nail polish that he wore on the days after a concert. Nobody forced him to practice on his only free days, and even if they did, Licht found it easy to just hold up his freshly painted nails and force a smile - no eye contact, that had felt like it was burning his skin away. 

Of course you could attempt to play the piano with painted nails, the same way you could attempt to set yourself on fire because you were bored. Licht was a huge fan of  _ glissando  _ which made all the rights part of his brain tingle with joy, but since it hurt his fragile thumbs to do it the traditional way he had started to do it like a beginner, fingernails scratching the keys while he slid the back of his hand across the keyboard. He once had arrived to practice with his teacher’s piano covered in strange colorful marks. Nail polish, she had explained to him, way too cheery for a woman who would have to spend her night removing nail polish from her precious keyboard. Licht had made an unspoken promise this afternoon to never even think about touching a piano with nail polish on his fingers. 

Nail polish was a free get-out-of-practice ticket. He didn’t do it all too often, of course. Only on the days after a concert. 

But then he didn’t do any concerts anymore. He wasn’t sure when the pressure finally exploded in his face but when it all came together, university, battling an evil force that was trying to kill his Servamp (and him), you know,  _ life _ , Licht had stopped giving concerts. His black nail polish began to crumble and rip apart. He had never been one to grow out his nails because it was impossible to play that way but all of sudden it felt like there was nothing stopping him anymore. 

He liked it. For a while. He liked the sound his fingernails made on his phone screen, he liked how his nails looked painted. He liked the compliments, he liked how Hyde hissed when Licht let his fingernails run across his bare skin. He liked how they looked in pictures or wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. He liked how the water rolled off them when he was in the shower. 

It made him feel normal, it gave him the illusion that he could somehow replace his original purpose with something much more vain, much more useless. It’s all about illusions, isn’t it? Creating a feeling that never felt natural, and therefore never felt real. And he knew all about that, making people feel things but never feeling it himself. Keeping up masks. He was so good at masking, wasnʼt he? Until the point of collapsing, of breaking down because nothing he had ever done felt genuine to him. 

The illusion lasted for two years until it started to wobble, and it took another year for it to crash down on him. 

Hyde found him standing in front of the piano, carefully tracing his fingers across the keys without making a sound. He had painted his nails purple a few days back, the color was already peeling off on his pointer fingers and thumbs, where he bit his nails the most. 

“Licht?” he asked. Licht got the feeling that this wasn’t the first time he called his name or a variation of it. Hyde never started with his  _ name _ . 

“When did that happen?” Licht asked quietly, not letting himself tear his eyes away from the piano. “When did I-”

His hand twitched, trembled, begging him to pull away from the keyboard. 

“Why does it hurt?” he asked his Servamp. 

For a while, he couldn't hear anything except his own breaths, shaking ever so slightly, and the clock above the door. He never was aware of the fact that Hyde didn't need to breathe until they were silent around each other. 

“I canʼt tell you that,” Hyde replied after enough time for Licht to fear that maybe he wasnʼt going to get an answer after all. 

“Will it ever stop?” Licht asked, his voice so small and desperate. He didnʼt sound like himself nowadays. 

Hyde stepped closer and looked at him. For a moment, Licht wondered if he ever missed the closeness of fighting, of being kicked across the room. Licht rarely touched him anymore. It gave him the illusion that they were closer now but like many illusions it was far from the truth. 

“Okay,” Licht answered a question Hyde didnʼt have to ask him. His Servamp made another step, reaching out with his hand but instead of touching his shoulder or hugging him, he put it over Lichtʼs hand on the keyboard. 

It was like something within him broke and set free a pain that had been waiting for him to be felt ever since he stopped playing. Licht started crying, the ugly kind, the one that makes you forget how to breathe. Hyde wrapped his other arm around him and pulled him close. Licht noticed that he did his best to keep the embrace as careful as possible, to offer comfort but not to trap him in it. Even though Licht had lived with this pain for so long, it had never felt this intense. It was a burning sensation in his stomach, his throat, even at the end of his useless fingertips. 

Hyde allowed him to cry as long as he needed to. He carefully scraped Lichtʼs hand from the keyboard and linked their fingers together. Licht barely felt it. He couldnʼt feel anything but the pain and the disappointment and the shame and the guilt and the loss of something that had once been everything for him but now felt like an impossible task. 

Right when he thought that it was never going to stop, it became easier to breathe. Licht buried his face in his Servampʼs shoulder and smiled a tiny, invisible smile when Hyde pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“If you taught me anything,” Hyde said, “it probably is that pain does not have to define you. Feel it, for a while. If you want to.”

Licht nodded, too exhausted for words, too exhausted to exist. 

“Do you know that your hands are always warm?” Hyde said. 

Licht shook his head. 

“They are, though.” 

He freed himself from his Servampʼs embrace but didn't free his hand yet. He liked the touch, the comfort, the illusion that all his fingers ever needed to do was holding Hydeʼs hand. 

And maybe it wasnʼt an illusion after all. 


End file.
